Snowfall
by ASilencedMurderer
Summary: Claire walks in on something completely unexpected, wherein the event changes the course of her heart and her sanity for the rest of her existence. Trigger warning, read at your own risk. One shot.


**Sorry for the general deadness of this account recently, I've been wrapped up with life and this awesome game called Dead Island. Seriously addicting, gotta lop those infected arms off with my fully upgraded sickle. Beautifully gory game, to state the obvious. Hopefully this short one shot fic will make up for the lack of updates for Pistol Grip Pump, and I hope you enjoy it! Before I forget, Pistol Grip Pump will be updated soon. I hope. Anyway, italics imply a flashback and/or a memory, or in one case, Claire reading something. Hope you enjoy, and I'll be running away in the opposite direction so people don't kill me.**

Snowfall.

Earth's way of freezing your extremities in the most beautiful way possible.

Claire Redfield trudged through the thick snow, her thermal clothes barely keeping out the cold. The ex-members of the Redfield convoy, and the escapees of the Arcadia Experiment moved from the sea to inland Alaska, seeking asylum and refuge from the insanity of the world. Everything is going well, with plenty of food, a strong supply of fresh water, and an all around hygienic state far from infected eyes.

The redhead had moved in with Alice Abernathy, the renowned undead hunter and the most mysterious brunette to ever set foot upon the Earth. Despite Alice's social anxiety, despite Alice's disturbing history and obvious uncomfort with being around over two thousand survivors, the older woman was quite the company: strong willed, witty and quite tactical. Once Alice became your friend, Alice was your friend for life – given the fact that you do not anger her or cross the metaphorical line. On top of all this, Claire found Alice to be absolutely stunning, and surprisingly, quite attractive.

Nonetheless, everything was well.

Living on the edge of town had many advantages and disadvantages. One advantage was that the serendipity of having the flourishing forest surround your new home without other cabins interrupting the astonishing view, but to counter to that was the cheek numbing twenty-five minute walk from the town center to the shared cabin. Another advantage was that Claire could have Alice all to herself – quite selfish, she knew – without having a certain lust-filled man, Luther West, interrupt them. Shamelessly admitting to herself, Claire knew that she had a crush on Alice. First time that the redhead laid eyes on the lone desert wanderer was the first time she had fallen head over heels in love backwards in years, she thought – no, she _knew_, that Alice had to be hers and only hers.

But the idea of Alice having feelings back was a whole new story. Claire had the faintest idea on Alice's past love and sex life, let alone her sexuality: which was why she was headed back to their cabin slightly earlier than usual. 'Early' meaning just when the moon begins to crest the horizon, warding off small patches of darkness; essentially, it wasn't early at all.

Brushing off a few snowflakes resting upon her shoulder, Claire glided up the porch with ease, her military grade boots barely making a sound upon the stone. Knocking on the wooden door before entering to announce her arrival, she entered the hallway merged into front/living room.

How strange, it was darker than Wesker himself. Flicking on a light, she slid her worn leather jacket off, hanging it on its respectable hook.

"Alice?" Claire called, eyes whipping across the empty room. "Are you in?" No response. The silence was eerily creepy, almost deafening for the burgundy woman.

Silently moving across the floor, she placed a now sweaty palm on the grip of her Desert Eagle. First, she thoroughly checked the front room, then the kitchen, then her own bedroom and then, lastly, to stop an extremely awkward moment too soon, the bathroom. Each reported no signs of life. A chill shot down the redhead's spine, knowing that something was terribly amiss and completely wrong.

Taking a deep breath, she rapped her knuckles across Alice's bedroom door. "Alice? Are you okay?" Her voice was laced with fear. Trying the handle, she twisted it around with the said item protesting: the door was locked. Stepping back, she slammed her foot into the door, snapping the built in lock in two, essentially knocking the door wide open.

Claire was granted with more darkness, this time more sickening, more chilling, and more fearful. The younger woman had half a mind to turn right around and walk straight out, but she relented. Taking a tentative step in and flicking on the light in one fluid motion, Claire was given the most horrifying, sanity-wrecking and heart-wrenching sight any human could ever ask for.

A lone tear trailed down her cheek as she choked and stumbled over words, the situation rendering her completely useless.

Alice Abernathy, her favourite brunette, her current love of her life, was hanging six inches off the floor, dangling uselessly. Her head and neck were bound by a noose, which was efficiently tied to the rafters.

Alice had killed herself.

More tears escaped, Claire's body now shaking out of pure shock. Alice was gone. No more gentle laughter, no more hoarse words, no more Alice. That was it. Claire choked back a sob and looked up to the eternally sleeping brunette: her face was strangely beautiful, as if the older woman was finally at peace, as if serendipity had took a hold of her and carried her into the afterlife.

A white piece of paper caught her eye, which was sitting on the sideboard. Picking up the said item, she looked at the contents with depressed eyes. Alice had such beautiful handwriting, each word and letter beautifully joined with a perfect curve and line; it was obvious that Alice had taken her time writing her final letter to the world. Claire began reading.

"_Dear whoever reads this, I am sorry. I am sorry that I had to take my own life; it was all becoming too much. Knowing that I had been the cause to the end of the world and almost humanity itself, knowing that I couldn't save the human race and knowing that I am a monstrosity, I just had to end it all. My sad, pathetic life needed to be ended. Nonetheless, I am not gone. I hope to be in your memories forever, keeping those horrid thoughts at bay. I will be in the afterlife, watching you. I am sorry that I am gone. I am sorry that everything is my fault. I am sorry for everything. Hopefully death will grant me the peace I've been longing for, hopefully ending it all will grant me the sanity of which I lost. I am sorry."_

As Claire read the last few words, she noticed dry tears spotting the bottom of the page, more than likely Alice's own. A few droplets of tears fell from the redhead's own face, and she set down the paper gently back on its original place.

More tears fell. Alice is gone.

Even more tears.

Grabbing the chair to the side, she stood upon it, starting to undo the tightly done noose. As she did this however, a memory flooded her mind.

_Another day, another infected attack, and more deaths. This time, it was outside the run down motel, and was caused by a mass of infected crows. Claire Redfield was now standing in front of the row of makeshift crosses, giving the dead their respected final words. Two of her lieutenants were now lost, and she would have to go about electing two more trustworthy survivors to drive the two trucks. Among the two lieutenants were many innocent convoy members who were bitten and needed to be disposed of. Once the makeshift and improvised funeral was over, the fiery redhead was pulled to one side to meet their shocking saviour. If it weren't for this mysterious brunette, Claire guessed that the convoy would've been picked clean: the older woman appeared at the last moment, just in time to save Carlos and a survivor from being cooked alive, and manipulated and controlled the fire to set fire into the skies, frying the undead crows alive. It was like she was a goddess, sent down to Earth to roam the barren and worthless wastelands. The leader was soon knocked out of her daydreaming when Carlos pulled their saviour up to introduce the two women. "Alice, this is the leader of the convoy, Claire Redfield. Claire, this is Alice." The two women put forth their arms at the same time, shaking their hands with a neutral agreement: unbeknownst to either woman, that this circumstance, this event, would be the start of a beautiful and trusting friendship._

It didn't take long for Claire to undo the tight knot, and she took Alice's dead weight into her arms, relishing and repelling the feel of flesh on flesh, with the fact of the brunette's skin being sickly cold. Moving the beautifully still body down to Alice's bed, she removed the noose from around Alice's neck, causing another memory to flurry through.

_The last of the convoy and Alice had managed to steal an Umbrella helicopter at the Detroit facility, with a few depressing sacrifices that had to be made to reach the said vehicle. When the last survivor climbed on, Claire started the helicopter, flicking a few switches and adjusting the controls. She turned to see K-Mart distraught and Alice holding her ground. "You're not coming?" K-Mart questioned, shocked. Alice simply nodded her head and sent an apologetic but yet regretful look towards the leader, as if she was trying to mentally say something she couldn't vocalise. Before emotions took control of Claire, she began to lift off, Alice saluting her and the convoy one more time before turning, heading towards the dilapidated shack. Claire had never felt so betrayed and so alone._

When she removed the noose, her eyes drifted to the ugly bruising surrounding the pale neck. It was obvious that the rope had crushed her windpipe, and caused an instantaneous and painless death for the brunette. Holding back a gag, she traced a thumb across the bruising, inwardly hoping that this useless motion would just heal everything, and bring Alice back into the living. Her eyes caught Alice's peaceful expression, and a small smile graced across her face. Alice just looks so beautiful, so stunning, even in death. Leaning forward, she planted a loving kiss onto the older woman's forehead, another memory flooding her brain.

"_I didn't want you to miss that." Alice quipped when the powerful explosion went off, completely purging Wesker straight into the underworld. The brunette had a grin plastered across her face, looking straight into the redhead's eyes, relief with a hint of love glazing across the sapphire orbs. All Claire could do was dryly laugh, pulling the older woman into a hug, glad that all this was over. 'All this' meaning the fight with Umbrella, forever running away and forever living in worry. Now, with Alice by her side and with a infection-free haven, Claire could finally live. Holding Alice tighter, she tilted her head._

"_Now what?" Claire questioned, arching a brow._

"_Now, we spread hope."_

Claire was full on sobbing now. Her best friend, her team mate, her soul mate and her current crush was dead. No heartbeat, no pulse, no nothing. Falling to her knees, she grasped onto Alice's lifeless hand, wishing that the brunette would squeeze back: instead, the hand remained ever lifeless.

Through more sobs, through more pain-filled tears, Claire managed to catch her voice for a few seconds, looking up at Alice's silent corpse. "I love you. And I hope you know that in the afterlife." Claire's head fell, her forehead resting on the edge of the bed as she continued to weep, her hand clasping on to Alice's forever. She would not let go, neither for love nor for life.

_Four months later..._

The redhead knelt at improvised cross, placing a few flowers into the snow. On the cross was Alice's full name in the most beautiful handwriting Claire could ever manage. Albeit the fact that it had been four months, Claire couldn't get over the fact that she had walked in on Alice's corpse hanging from the rafters. She held back sobs as snow began to fall once again, as if mimicking the events of the past. The redhead visited Alice's grave once a week, placing a new flower to replace the dead one.

As the clouds thickened and as the snow fell heavier, Claire let go of her emotions, beginning to bawl into her hands. No one was around to hold her, and Alice was too far gone to comfort her.

Suicide.

Sanity's way of freezing a heart in the most horrifying way possible.


End file.
